A Night of Scandal

‘Your play.’

‘Right.’ His face cleared. ‘If you were gripped enough to read it in your knickers, presumably you liked it. Any ideas?’

Determined not to show him how much that one kiss had flustered her, Katie beamed at Ben as he served chargrilled vegetables. ‘Yum. That looks delicious, thanks. You spoil me.’

Ben returned the smile. ‘I’ll be hovering right here if there’s anything you need, Miss Katie.’

‘No, you won’t.’ Nathaniel’s voice was silky smooth. ‘If we need anything, we’ll call you.’

As Ben discreetly melted away, Katie rolled her eyes and picked up her fork. ‘Do people always do exactly what you want?’

‘Evidently not,’ he purred, ‘or right now you would be naked on that bed underneath me and we’d be indulging in a form of communication that certainly doesn’t require conversation.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with conversation.’

‘Fine. So let’s talk. Tell me why you always wear brown.’

‘I happen to like the colour brown.’

He leaned forward, his gaze disturbingly acute. ‘Why don’t you like having your picture taken?’

‘Not everyone is born an exhibitionist.’

‘Here’s a hint—’ he spoke softly ‘—when you’re lying, you need to look someone in the eye and act sincere. You, Katie Field, are an appalling liar. And you have your secrets, just like anyone else.’ He lifted his glass and took a mouthful of wine, watching her over the rim of his glass.

Not secrets, she thought. Insecurities. It wasn’t the same thing.

Their eyes held and she felt the blood pound in her ears.

But he had secrets, that much was obvious. And she suspected they were dark secrets. Secrets he didn’t share with anyone.

What surprised her was how much she wanted him to share them.

How much she wanted to provide a listening ear.

He was looking at her with those spectacular eyes and suddenly talking and listening were the last things on her mind. It was obvious that he was thinking about that kiss. And so was she.

Her pulse thudding dangerously fast, Katie put down her fork. Seeking a safe subject, she chose acting. ‘Tell me more about how you prepared for the part of Alpha Man.’

She half expected him to refuse, but he relaxed back in his chair and proceeded to regale her with stories about filming. He was witty and sharp, his observations about his cast members so wickedly incisive that she found herself laughing even though she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to fall under his spell.

He was such amusing company that it was only after the last of the plates had been cleared away that she realised he still hadn’t revealed anything personal. The whole evening had been spent talking about other people.

‘So, how about you, little Miss Talkalot.’ He leaned across and topped up her wine glass. ‘How did you end up designing costumes? School play?’

Make me something to wear, Katie.

‘Way before the school play.’ She dismissed her sister’s petulant voice from her head. ‘I always loved costumes. Clothes. I used to make my own dolls’ clothes. We didn’t have that much money so I used scraps of fabric and old buttons from Mum’s sewing kit. I hovered around thrift stores, car boot sales—anything I could find. My friends and I used to play Hollywood.’ Afraid she was boring him to death, she broke off and took a sip of her drink.

‘You used to play Hollywood?’

‘We’d pretend we were a film studio. Martha was the director.’ Katie grinned at the memory. ‘She was the bossy one. Then there was Emily—she was the drama queen so she always had the leading part. Sally and Jenny took whichever parts Emily didn’t want.’ And then there was her sister, Paula. I have to be the princess. I’m the prettiest.

‘And you?’

‘I made everyone else look good.’ She gave a simple shrug. ‘All I ever did at school was draw and draw. We had a school prom and I designed and made everyone’s dresses. My parents wanted me to read English at university, but all I was interested in was art, fashion, the movies and theatre. That’s all I ever wanted to do and they were so good about it. Were your parents good about you wanting to be an actor?’

‘I never asked their opinion.’ His face was inscrutable.